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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24522565">Simply Nou</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bruja_Whisperer/pseuds/Bruja_Whisperer'>Bruja_Whisperer</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>13 Reasons Why (TV), Cyberbully (2011), Ready Player One (2018), 聲の形 | Koe no Katachi | A Silent Voice (Anime)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anxiety, Bad Parenting, Child Abuse, Childhood Memories, Childhood Trauma, Depression, Diary/Journal, Explicit Language, Hate Speech, Japan, Japanese Culture, Justice, Love/Hate, Mental Health Issues, Multi, Other, Parent-Child Relationship, Religious Conflict, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Suicide Attempt</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 08:41:52</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,140</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24522565</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bruja_Whisperer/pseuds/Bruja_Whisperer</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a collection of diary entries and first person POV storytelling of a young American/Japanese girl struggling in the futuristic city of Japan. As she recalls her journey from being a child to young adulthood, her story is revealed to be filled with hope and surprises, but also with hatred, fear, sadness, and tragedy. As someone who has dealt with many of these issues addressed within this story, I want this story to be a way to teach people about the darker reality of the world, and how to cope with such things. In addition, this story has several ties with other characters' tragedies that have been seen on television and movies, such as Hannah Baker (13 reasons Why) and other teen dramas like "Cyberbully" - 2011.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kira/Herself, Kira/Kira's Mother, Kira/The World</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Epilogue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>~ This story is dedicated to every graduating senior of the class of 2020. Our year was stripped away from us faster than we realized, and depending on when you’re reading this, that pain is still there. So, I hope this story gives you a chance to work through those feelings because let’s face it: there’s nothing we can do now but look forward. So, with that being said, I love you all, and enjoy. ~</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>Dear Diary, </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>I don’t know if this is the end, or just the beginning. Sounding so cryptic makes me seem weird, but nothing about all this is normal, or “not weird.” I don’t think I was meant for this timeline… It’s like God, mother nature, or whoever is in charge of this shit hole put me here prematurely. I think about every event in my life, my story that’s been written these past 19 years, and I can’t help but feel… stupid. Weird. Out of place. Fucked. Dumb. Not normal. Not meant to be. </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>Don’t ask me why I feel this way, this isn’t a two-sided discussion. I bought this journal as a new way to express myself but now it’ s fucking worthless. Maybe I bought it to please my mom, I don’t know. That’s who’ll be impacted by this the most. Despite how terrible she is at hiding her emotions, I gave her the title of Cerberus for how hard she tries to protect herself from everything, I can’t help but think how this’ll probably destroy her. But, nevertheless, I could care less about what others think. It’s not like they’ve thought twice about me, or how I feel. Why else would I be here? </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>This entire entry is scrambled, and I’m well aware of that. Thinking about it now kinds of reminds me of how chaotic my world is right now. I feel all these emotions and feelings, yet I’m also… empty. Like, I don't know where these emotions are coming from. My body is a shell and has been for months. I guess it’s all in my head, but I don’t fucking care. Anyway, thank you shitty diary for putting up with my crap after all these years. Thank you higher beings for making my life on this earth fucking miserable. Thank you people on this earth for being fucking awful. It’s all shit. Always has been, always will be. Umm… bye, I guess? lol. </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>- Kira</em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>      The breeze feels absolutely amazing. As it flows through my hair, I feel at ease, at peace. I take a deep breath, letting the air fill my lungs, and exhale. The sky is beautiful... each star sprinkling the sky as though they’re decorations. I guess they are, cause the sky would look pretty boring if there weren’t any stars.</p><p>      The city view leaves me breathless. Thousands of lights flicker in every direction, the ground still bustling with dozens of people, even in the middle of the night. Kind of sad; if this had been in my life when I was younger I probably wouldn’t be standing at the edge of this building. Too late now. What a shame. I wiggle my toes, standing tall on the edge of the building. I didn’t bother putting any shoes on, and why would I? The fuzzy socks I chose are much more comfortable. A sign flashes “あきらめないでください!” as I stare straight out into the city. Funny how ironic that is. For those of you reading this that don’t speak Japanese, this loosely translates to “Please never give up.” Now you can see why I find that so interesting. Bet they don’t have that message plastered on billboards in America. Then again, I have no clue what they have there, so don’t listen to what I’m saying. Clueless as usual.</p><p>      Once again the breeze starts to pick up as I sway back and forth; only now does it hit me that I’m teetering 180 meters above the ground. I start shaking, waves of anxiety crashing down on me and making it hard to breathe. Thoughts of backing out fill my brain, my nervousness taking over the emptiness I’ve been feeling for as long as I can remember. My friends, my family… how will they react? Isn’t it selfish to do this? I’m only 19... if I can’t handle the pressure now, what does that say about the future? Am I being stupid? Irrational? God dammit, this is so fucking stupid.</p><p>      And just like that, the anxiety is gone. I feel my body hollow out again, the familiar numbness and empty feeling replacing the one shred of emotion I’ve felt for a while. It’s okay though, having no feelings is better than negative ones, right?</p><p>      The breeze begins to feel cold on my cheek as I realize I’ve started crying. Of course I am. I can’t handle this. I’m too weak to handle this. Then again, what else is new? These fucking aches and pains I’ve felt so for long have transformed into emotional numbness. I guess, now that I’m standing in my final moments, they’ve managed to manifest themselves into tears. It’s almost as if my body is pleading that I get off this ledge. That I go back home, lay in bed, and forget this ever happened. But that would be too easy, and not to mention it wouldn’t fix anything. See I think that’s the issue. You know when people say they have emotional scars? In my opinion there’s a part in everyone’s brain that’s responsible for fixing those scars, including heartbreak, fear, etc. Well, I think that’s what this part of the brain does. They patch up whatever was done to you and you can move on with your life. I however think this part of me is broken. So how can I fix anything emotionally if my “fixer” (that’s what we’ll call it) isn’t working?</p><p>      I wipe the tears from my face and take another deep breath, focusing on the air that enters my lungs. It’s rather cathartic, breathing that is. I think it grounds me a little, brings me back into the present. I have the tendency to let my mind wander, and breathing like this sends me back to reality. Despite reality being a giant pile of shit, it’s nice to have this feeling of control over my stirring thoughts.</p><p>      Now that I’ve come back to reality, I notice some yelling from below me. In fact, I hear a lot of voices hollering from below. But not at each other. They’re hollering at me… I try to block out the noise, afraid that it’ll stop me. But I don’t want to be stopped. I just want to do it. God dammit I’m so pathetic why can’t I just end it? Jump off? It’s not like anything is stopping me from taking that extra step.</p><p>      The sirens of an ambulance blare down the city block as I notice flickering red lights explode beneath me. I simply bat my eyes, a few stranded tears falling down my face as I stare forward again. By now I know someone has called the police, but I don’t care. They can’t do much at this point. By the sounds of it the scene beneath me is becoming more hectic as bystanders and police swarm around the outskirts of the building. I continue staring forward, averting my gaze from the mass of people trying to call up to me. The last thing I want to do is give anyone the satisfaction of me listening to them, so I stare straight into the city with my eyes leveling with the other tall skyscrapers surrounding me. Like I mentioned earlier, the lights radiating off the buildings are almost blinding. It’s surprising that I’m able to see the sky so clearly.</p><p>      “Ma’am, please step away from the edge of the building!” a voice louder than the rest blares from below. Regardless of my strong will to continue looking away, I slowly look down to see a man, most likely a police officer, holding a megaphone. He starts to speak again, attempting to coax me off the ledge. But I ignore his pleas, inching closer to the edge of the roof to the point where my toes are dangling off the edge. At this point I’m about to fall off; the breeze begins to pick up and I feel my back starting to teeter once again. My mind and heart begin to race, realizing what exactly I’m doing. My palms become sweaty and I start to breathe faster, trying to calm down my speeding heart. I jolt my head to my sides, down, up, then down again to suddenly see one of my feet lose its grip on the ledge. As if the wind is waiting, I feel the breeze push me forward, causing my body to fall forward and begin plummeting to the ground.</p><p>      I don’t know what it was, but I feel my head smack against something hard, sending waves of extreme pain throughout my entire body. The hollow shell that I’ve dealt with over these past months seemed to shatter completely as I now start to experience every emotion, every physical feeling that I suppressed for so long. Of course my head feels like it’s splitting, and I have a sharp pain in my left arm. Before I have a chance to recover from these blows, I have the air knocked out of me as I fall faster and faster, eventually splashing into water. I feel the cold water engulf my face as I finally begin to open my eyes, noticing flickering lights and multiple hands surrounding my body. I also see the water instantly change color: a dark and sinister red masking any clear view I have of what's going on around me. I try to open my eyes as I notice my body being lifted from the water and onto the ground. The hard surface makes my body convulse, causing a small cracking noise to surface. I let out a loud grunt, unable to describe the insurmountable pain I feel. Suddenly, the ground lifts and I make the connection that I must be on a stretcher of some kind. Three arms hold my limbs down as the stretcher carries me into what sounds like an ambulance. I hear multiple people frantically speaking to one another, trying to communicate amongst all this commotion. They begin shouting for needles and sterilizers but the rest I don’t catch as I instantly lose consciousness, everything coming to a complete stop.</p><p>      I have no clue who started the concept of religion, but everything about it is shit. There is no God, Allah, or Divine. No higher being or paradise waiting for us. What there is, is darkness. The kind of darkness you can’t see anything in front of you. The kind that engulfs you. And before anyone comes after me for bashing religion, let me say one thing: until you’ve gone to that place like I have… then shut the fuck up.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em><strong>“You’re just gonna get older, and harder, and more alone. And one day, you’re gonna look around and you’re gonna realize that everybody loves you. But nobody likes you. And that is the loneliest feeling in the world ....”</strong> </em>
</p>
<p> </p>

<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>Dear Diary, </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>Oh my goodness こんいちわ！ 初めまして。Ok so you may be wondering why I’m so excited, but it’s cause I just got this journal today and I have been so excited to use it! Okay, so a little bit about me! I’m 15-years-old, I live in Shibuya, which is like a place in Tokyo, Japan. I’m currently a first year in high school, and I could not be more excited! Today my mom and I went to the mall and got this journal and some other cool stuff. My mom knows I like to write so she bought me this! Anyway, then we went to our local konbini and bought some snacks. I’m super excited cause school is tomorrow and it’s my birthday! But besides that, I hope you like these journal letters (idk haha). I will try to do them every week! Bai-bai!</em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p> </p>
<p>      “Good morning Ms. Nou, how are you?” a studious-looking man in a white coat asks. He enters, closing the door behind him. Before speaking again, he pulls up a chair to sit next to me. He must be the doctor.</p>
<p>      “Could be better.” I reply bluntly, the pain in my body still causing me to twitch. I avert my gaze, not wanting to make eye contact. I randomly notice that I have a small bouquet of flowers on my nightstand; I wonder who could’ve brought them? It definitely wasn’t my mom. “Well at least you’re awake, that’s the important thing.” the man says gratefully. “With a head hit like that, I wasn’t sure- you know.” The rest of his sentence is unspoken, but we both know what he was getting at. “Let’s just get to the questions.”</p>
<p>      He opens his clipboard to switch around a few papers before taking out a pen. “So I want to start from the beginning,” he prepares to write. “What do you remember after you began falling?”</p>
<p>      “Don’t you think it’s kind of bold to ask a patient about what just happened, mere hours after it just occurred? Especially if it’s something like this?” I stare at him with disdain. “Kind of insensitive if you ask me.”</p>
<p>      “You see the thing is,” the man stops writing for a brief moment, his demeanor unchanging. “It hasn’t been a few hours. It’s been a few days. Five to be exact.”</p>
<p>      My mood immediately shifts from being angry to embarrassed. I instantly regret retorting his question, so the only thing I can muster up to say is “Sorry.”</p>
<p>      “No big deal Ms. Nou, I understand this can be a vulnerable time for you. I want you to relax, take a deep breath, it’s going to be okay.” he reassures me. For the first time since I would say the beginning of high school, I shut up and follow his advice; I take a deep breath in, letting it out as I feel my anxiety slightly ease.</p>
<p>      “Well, I remember falling until my head hit something… something hard.” I feel the pain radiate through my skull, and I take another deep breath. “And then, I remember my arm feeling weird before I started sinking into water. Then everything went red and black…” I let these words trail off, getting lost in the scene again as I relive the memory. It’s all dark, eerie, emotionless.</p>
<p>      “Okay, and do you remember seeing any of the objects that struck you?”</p>
<p>      “No.”</p>
<p>      “Alright then.” the man shifts his papers around once again without breaking eye contact with his clipboard. “Now, these next few questions are like a psych-evaluation, if you will.” He continues, disregarding the obvious sigh I let out when hearing those words. The doctor clicks his pen once more before saying “So in the past year, have you experienced any of the following feelings: numbness, persistent sadness or grief, anxiety, swift mood changes, out-of-body experiences, thoughts of hurting yourself or others, or suicide?”</p>
<p>      “All but ‘hurting others’” I tell him. I take a moment to realize how many of these feelings I can relate to, and it makes me frown. I guess he notices this, so he keeps going.</p>
<p>      “How is your home life?”</p>
<p>      “It’s just my mom and I.”</p>
<p>      “Father?”</p>
<p>      “Dead.”</p>
<p>      He clears his throat. “So how is your relationship with your mother?”</p>
<p>      With this question I could write an entire novel about how much I despise my mother and all the shit she’s ever done. Instead, I just answer through gritted teeth: “We quarrel sometimes. Usual mother-daughter arguments.”</p>
<p>      “Okay…” the man scribbles on his sheets, stopping occasionally to think. While he writes I glance over at the window where rays of sun cascade into the little hospital room. There are barely any clouds in the sky, signaling that today must be pretty sunny. And cheerful. Ironically.</p>
<p>      “Alright.” the man slides his chair back, putting it back in its place before looking down at me. “Thank you Ms. Nou. We’ll be keeping in touch throughout these next couple of days.”</p>
<p>      “Days…?” I say questionably, struggling to prop myself up in frustration. “Why days?”</p>
<p>      “Well, your mental state is unpredictable at the moment, so it wouldn’t be wise to let you leave right away after an incident like that. Also, your injuries are still critical. So we need to monitor you to ensure you’ll recover,” he contemplates his next words. “Physically and mentally.” And with that, the doctor swiftly opens the door and walks through, shutting it behind him.</p>
<p>      I sink back into bed, feeling the warm sheets rest against me as I lazily gaze at the ceiling. I stare at the blinding fluorescent lights until my head starts pounding, then I look away. The hospital is extremely quiet it seems, which I guess is preferable. The silence is almost enchanting, and considering I haven’t felt this peaceful in a while, it’s nice. My eyes begin to feel heavy as I lay there, my eyelids drooping while my breathing slows down. Calmly, I shut my eyes, letting my mind wander off into a long, drawn out sleep.</p>
<p>~ ~ ~ ~</p>
<p> </p>
<p>      I wake up to what I can only describe as the most annoying banter between two people. Angrily, I open my eyes as I see my mother standing there, speaking to a nurse in the most unapologetic tone.</p>
<p>      “I don’t care, just let me see my daughter dammit.” she scowls as the nurse who, clearly irritated, backs away and closes the door to the room behind her rather forcefully. My mom lets out a sigh of relief, turning to see me lying in bed, awake. “Heyyy Kiki,” she coos. “How are you doing?”</p>
<p>      Unfazed by her insincere concern, I look at her and mutter “Fine.”</p>
<p>      “Someone’s cranky.” my mom jokes, pulling out a small bouquet of flowers and placing them on the counter next to my bed. “I thought you would enjoy these. They’re your favorite color, yellow.”</p>
<p>      “Mom, my favorite color is blue.” I respond. The fact that she can’t even get my favorite color right makes my skin start to crawl and cheeks flush with irritation.</p>
<p>      “Is it? I didn’t know you changed it.” she says innocently. She arranges the flowers, humming softly as I look at her, my eyes squinting. I’m baffled by how unbeknownst she’s behaving, considering her daughter just flung herself off a building. She’s clearly playing innocent, trying to cover up that it happened. Well that shit is not going to fly.</p>
<p>      “So you’re not going to ask any questions? Like any concerning mother would?” I don’t break eye contact with her as she ignores my gaze, continuing to arrange the bouquet.</p>
<p>      “I did. I asked how you were doing.” she simply states. I can sense my face is red, so I take a deep breath. The doctor's advice passes through my head again.</p>
<p>      “Wow, is that the best you can come up with?” I begin raising my voice, my head starting to pound again. She stops humming and finally looks at me.</p>
<p>      “What do you want me to say?” she begins to raise her voice as well, matching my increasing tone. “It seems like you’re the one with the proble-”</p>
<p>      “Oh, I’m the one with the problem?” I cut her off. “Let’s address the fact that you came waltzing in her, argue with a nurse, then sit down beside me and not talk about the fact that your daughter just tried to kill herself!”</p>
<p>      “Knock it off.” my mother attempts to shut down the argument. “You’re being ridiculous. It’s probably all the drugs they’ve been injecting into you ever since you got here.”</p>
<p>      “Are you fucking serious?” I say in disbelief.</p>
<p>      “Language Kira!”</p>
<p>      “Fuck language!” I hiss. “How dare you walk in her acting like nothing has happened! I’m sorry I’ve punctured your perfect little bubble you’ve shoved yourself in, but let’s face it mom: I tried to kill myself. That’s the reality of it. I tried to end my life and you have the audacity to carry on as if nothing was amiss. Seems like you’re the one with the problem!”</p>
<p>      “If anything,” my mother cuts in. “I’m the one you should be apologizing to. Not only did you not even talk to me before all this, you proceeded to be selfish and try to end your own life. Do you have any idea what that’s like for a mother?! Her own daughter… trying to take her own life… I mean did you even think of the repercussions of what you did if you had succeeded? I would have to make several phone calls to family and friends, stating that ‘I’m sorry to tell you that Kira is no longer with us. She committed suicide.’ I mean… are you kidding me? It’s insensitive!”</p>
<p>      My head feels like it’s about to explode, but I shove the pain aside. I can feel my nose beginning to burn as I suppress the urge to burst into tears. “Oh really? Well maybe all of this could’ve been avoided had you actually been a mother to me!” With that, my mother sits back in her chair, in awe with what I just said. She attempts to interject, but I don’t give her the chance.</p>
<p>      “Imagine what it’s like to have a mother who excuses her daughter’s depression for ‘just being sad.’ Imagine what it’s like to go through every day hating yourself because you feel like you can never amount up to your mother’s expectations. Imagine what it’s like to constantly think about cutting yourself because you can’t find another way to express your pain, and god forbid you ask for help because your own mother will just shrug it off or yell at you for being an attention-seeker. It’s insulting that after all these years you’ve managed to build this false sense of reassurance within yourself that I’m perfectly fine and that nothing is wrong with me. If this is true, then how the fuck do you explain what happened? I jumped off a building! I split my head open! I have a fractured arm. And for what? To get rid of all this pent up anger and sadness I have inside of me because it's been actively shoved down for years? That should have never happened. I should have never felt that way because you are the support I was supposed to have. The one person I could look to when I was feeling upset, or hurt. But no.” I give up trying to hide my tears as I feel warm streaks fall onto my face. They shock me, considering that I haven’t been able to feel, which is something I thought broke after I took those steps. “You weren’t there. Yet, now that something’s become inconvenient for you, you have decided to ‘pop in for a visit.’”</p>
<p>      There is an elongated pause before we both hear a knock at the door. A nurse rushes in, clearly in a panic from hearing us yell at each other. “Ladies, what is going on?!”</p>
<p>      “Everything is fine.” I take a deep breath while looking at my mother. “This woman was just about to leave.” I glare back, seeing her become offended that I address her like I did. She quickly picks up her purse, standing from her seat and walking around my bed towards the door. However, before she leaves, she turns her head and looks at me.</p>
<p>      “Don’t always assume what you don’t know.”</p>
<p>      And with that, she leaves.</p>
<p>~ ~ ~ ~</p>
<p> </p>
<p>      One thing I never quite understood was the mindset behind some parents. Like they want you to be independent and make your own choices, but they want you to do that their way. Which, if I’m not mistaken, completely undermines the concept of being independent. It’s just so confusing and rather frustrating how contradicting things can be.</p>
<p>      With my mom, she wanted me to be independent ever since I could talk. She always made me do things on my own to lower my dependency on her and my father. Then, when dad left, she seemed to think I was an adult because she never helped me with anything; from paying for food to buying my own clothes. Even in this day and age, finding a decent job for a young woman like me in Japan is difficult. Anyway, independence was one thing that my mom enforced whenever she got the chance. However, like I mentioned earlier, I had to do things the way she wanted. Contradictory and hypocritical… my mom’s best personality traits. And if you knew my mom, you would know I’m not exaggerating.</p>
<p>      Trust me, I know this story is a little convoluted. To be fair, no one’s life story is going to be completely understandable, and I think that’s okay. I think it’s more important to show you the truth behind my life rather than turning it into some sort of straight-forward literature piece that begs to be given a Nobel Prize. My life isn’t worthy of an award. It’s not an achievement.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>~ Thank you for taking the time to read. More chapters will be released once they are edited and finalized. Thank your for joining this journey, and blessed be &lt;3 ~</p></blockquote></div></div>
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